


on ogygia

by pjolesbian



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Annalypso, Bisexual Annabeth Chase, Book 4: The Battle of the Labyrinth (Percy Jackson), Gen, Ogygia, POV Annabeth Chase, annabeth goes to ogygia au, i don't know how ao3 tags work it's been so long, i just wanted to write about annabeth but i'm too gay to write percabeth, percabeth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:13:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24353425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pjolesbian/pseuds/pjolesbian
Summary: "The second time Annabeth woke up, the blinding headache was accompanied by a ringing sound, seemingly coming from her own head. She remembered to take shallow breaths this time, and tried to stay as still as possible, in case any other hidden ailments decided to make an appearance. Small inhale, soft exhale. The regulated breathing combined with the lack of oxygen was almost enough to lull Annabeth back into feverish sleep—until suddenly, there was a voice."In which Annabeth finds herself on Calypso's island after the explosion at Mt. St. Helen's, rather than Percy.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Calypso/Annabeth Chase
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	on ogygia

Annabeth's mind raced with all the different possibilities, all the ways that this could go wrong. Percy didn't really expect her to leave him here and take on all of the telekhines on his own, did he...?

She met Percy's eyes, and her gut sank all the way to the floor. He was dead serious about this. And the worst part was that he was right—they had no choice. Annabeth needed to find a way back to Hephaestus's workshop, and to tell Chiron about the scythe they had found the tekehines crafting. Percy knew this just as well as she did, and she could see the dawning panic behind his eyes, despite the confidence he was trying to sell her.

Annabeth wanted to cry. How was any of this fair?

This was her quest to die for, not Percy's. For a brief moment, driven by senseless desperation, Annabeth thought of giving Percy the Yankee's cap instead. To let him fight his way to safety while Annabeth took the sea demons on as her final stand, just like the prophecy had said. But she knew that it would never work. If anybody could make it through this alive, it was Percy.

It wasn't fair. She wanted to punch him, for being so ready to sacrifice himself for her. But the telekhines were getting closer, so Annabeth surprised herself—she didn't think first before doing what she did next. She kissed him.

"Be careful, Percy."

Heart racing, she put on her cap and dashed down one of the four ramps leading off the platform, not stopping to consider which one might be the right exit. 

She kept running down the corridor, but could hear the sounds of the chaos beginning to unfold above her—what was Percy saying? She could hear the voices of the telekhines, but nothing sounded like it was coming from him. Tears began to form at the corners of Annabeth's eyes, and she thought of the last thing Percy had said to her— _I've got a plan. I'll be fine_. How stupid, stupid stupid stupid she was for leaving Percy to fend for himself like that, trapped with no way out and no plan to avoid being slaughtered by a pack of demonic sea dogs. What was she thinking? 

For a moment, already several hundred feet down the volcano corridor, Annabeth hesitated. Panic and regret were slowly starting to overtake the clearheaded part of her conscience, and her gait wobbled. 

Then, out of nowhere, a piercing, almost imperceptibly high-pitched sound echoed through the air. Annabeth gasped and clutched her ears, which caused her to trip over her own momentum and fall onto the floor beneath her. 

The sound continued for a second longer before stopping as suddenly as it had started, leaving Annabeth struggling to catch her breath on the volcanic earth. _What in Zeus's name—?_ , she thought, then slowly uncupped her hands to peer both ways down the torch-lit corridor. Annabeth tried to listen in to her surroundings. She heard voices again, telekhines mumbling above her. Then there were more voices, more telekhines joining in. Before Annabeth could process what she was listening to, a tremendous rumbling noise overtook the labyrinth. The walls shook with a deafening force, showering Annabeth with hot, volcanic debris, and huge clouds of dirt and dust suddenly ate up every inch of oxygen in the air.

Annabeth yelped, then coughed as the ash filled her lungs. She tried to gather her senses and stumbled a few feet further down the path she had been following, but the rumbling grew to a cacophonous roar that split the earth beneath her feet. Annabeth helplessly clawed at the wall in front of her before succumbing to the merciless uproar that crumbled them. Her eardrums felt ready to burst at any moment, as both they and her lungs felt the tremendous pressure of the collapsing atmosphere. She managed to squeak out a feeble cry for help before the ash entered her throat and coated them completely. 

The earth-splitting thundering grew even louder, and Annabeth was spared from the crushing debris by an explosion of seawater that burst through fissures in the crumbling walls. A torrent of steaming-hot water flooded the passage-way, and picked up Annabeth along with it.

There wasn't time for her to think anything other than, _Percy?—_ before the scalding waves forced her along, deeper into the channels of the labyrinth. Annabeth struggled against the current, and the increasingly hot salt water found it's way into her lungs. She couldn't see anything—the water stung her eyes—and she fought to keep her head above water for long enough to take quick gasps of ashy air. Debris swirled all around her. She thrashed against it, leaving bruises wherever the rocks met her body. It was clear to Annabeth that she was losing the fight to stay conscious, but she stubbornly persisted until the waves forced her head to collide with the jagged wall. Everything after that point was a blur. 

* * *

When Annabeth finally opened her eyes, the light was blinding. She gasped and squinted. _Oh, Gods, ow_ , she thought, as her lungs reacted to the sudden intake of air. It was like inhaling pure flames. 

There was a soft light emitting from somewhere, but it was all just a series of vague shapes and looming figures to Annabeth at the moment. The light did, however, bring attention to the pounding headache she was experiencing, and she squeezed her eyes shut even further. _Okay_ , she resolved, _just gather your senses first_. But Annabeth was in way too much pain to form coherent thoughts. Instead, images swirled in the darkness of her closed eyelids. 

She saw Percy, the panic in his expression, and the shock after she had kissed him and fled. That image was quickly pushed away. There were the telekhines, and Annabeth envisioned them covering the exits, which would force Percy to either stand his ground or come up with a more clever trick to escape. But there had just been too many, even for a skilled fighter like Percy. Then she remembered the piercing, nearly inaudible pitch she had heard, moments before the explosion—like that you would hear come from a dog whistle, it occurred to her. A picture of Daedalus appeared in her vision.

Annabeth's brain throbbed in protest to her concentrated analysis of the events, but the pictures continued to flood her consciousness. 

The way the telekines had stopped talking immediately following the whistle, and then continued in an even louder assault on Percy... She imagined Percy, completed cornered, thinking he was out of defenses and being hopelessly overpowered. Then the lava the elder sea demons had pulled the scythe from. The scalding waves that crashed over her. Poseidon, Earth-shaker. 

A conclusion was just starting to take shape in the web of Annabeth's thoughts, but the mud stuck in the pockets of her lungs launched Annabeth into a fit of coughing. Annoyingly, she blacked out again from the pain.

* * *

The second time Annabeth woke up, the blinding headache was accompanied by a ringing sound, seemingly coming from her own head. She remembered to take shallow breaths this time, and tried to stay as still as possible, in case any other hidden ailments decided to make an appearance. Small inhale, soft exhale. The regulated breathing combined with the lack of oxygen was almost enough to lull Annabeth back into feverish sleep—until suddenly, there was a voice.

"Oh. Have I woken you up?"

It was the slightest, faintest of whispers, hardly directed at Annabeth at all, yet it was so jarring that Annabeth bolted awake instantly. She sat up and smacked her head directly into that of the figure hovering above her, which caused her vision to explode in tiny white dots of pain.

Annabeth gargled something to the effect of, _AUHGH_ , and then fell back onto the bed with her head cradled in her hands. It was hard to tell, but she thought she heard the voice stifle a giggle above her.

"Oh! Oh, my Gods, I'm sorry! You poor thing," the girl's voice was beautifully melodic, the way her syllables filled the air with an almost song-like cadence. "Let me help."

Annabeth didn't like the sound of that. Blinking through the pain in her head, she took her first proper look at the looming silhouette. 

Warm brown eyes stared back into hers. Her full lips curved into a kind, knowing smile, and her expression was tinged with a mix of amusement and concern. Whoever this girl was, Annabeth decided that she was definitely not mortal. She glowed with an ethereal type of beauty, a sort of ageless quality to her features that put Annabeth at unease. When the girl reached for a cloth rag to place over Annabeth's forehead, she twisted away. The girl frowned—confused—then laughed to herself. 

Even her laugh was musical, Annabeth observed.

"Right. Of course, how overwhelming this must be for you. Please, rest," she said, setting the rag down in a wooden bowl next to her. Annabeth took note for the first time of all the bowls and jars that filled her surroundings, each filled with different sweet-smelling herbs or medicine-like salves. Annabeth herself was covered in a sticky ointment, slowly healing her raw skin in a way that was clearly magical in nature. She was laying on cool sheets, and through the buzzing in her ears she could hear the gentle sound of waves crashing onto shore. 

"You are safe here," the girl said as Annabeth set her gaze back above. The words were automatic, like a cashier who'd said _Paper, or plastic?_ so many times that it came without a thought. "I am—"

"Calypso." Annabeth interrupted hoarsely, then again louder with dawning clarity. "You're Calypso. You—" Annabeth's lungs protested the sudden use, and she doubled over, wheezing. _You're the one who traps heroes_ , she thought. 

Calypso gasped, then gently placed a hand on Annabeth's back. Annabeth was too busy trying not to suffocate to object, so Calypso began singing a soothing rhythm while tracing her palm up and down. The pain subsided instantly, and Annabeth choked out a few shaky breaths. So that was how she had been healing her. She looked sideways at Calypso from her hunched over position, but Calypso just breathed and looked on encouragingly. 

"Please—Let me help you." Without taking her arm from Annabeth's back, she reached behind her for a glass full of golden liquid. "You need nectar." 

She gestured towards Annabeth's forehead, and set the glass down in front of her. Annabeth stared at her.

"For your injuries." 

Annabeth kept staring. 

"Please."

Annabeth blinked, then took the nectar. Her temples were screaming at her to drink it, and she was so dazed and disoriented that she didn't have the strength to argue with them. It was warm down her throat, like always, and this time it tasted like hot chocolate. She relaxed instantly, and took gulping sips. Calypso seemed relieved. 

"It's a good thing you're a demigod," she joked, and her quiet laugh made Annabeth flush more than the nectar. "I was worried I'd set you ablaze with all that." Calypso blinked suddenly. "You can have nectar, right? It's kinda been a while." She said it humourously, though Annabeth couldn't tell if the concern on her face was kidding or not.

The torchlight of the cave flickered, and Annabeth was mesmerized by the way it reflected off the geodes in the wall. A small bit of moonlight filtered in from the entrance, though the cave was mainly sustained by the yellow light of the torches and various candles that sat among the jars of medicine. The whole atmosphere was breathtaking, and the smell of the ocean mixed with the juniper and cedar was near intoxicating, but Annabeth knew better than to get comfortable. The longer she was here, the harder it would be to leave.

She set down the glass and searched the room. Her head was still spinning despite the healing magic, and her thoughts were equally scattered, but she managed to spot her dagger wrapped in cloth sitting on a shelf a few feet away. Calypso followed Annabeth's gaze and motioned as if to stop her from getting up, but Annabeth pushed her arm aside and lunged for the dagger anyway. 

Her elbow crashed into a row of jars and she flopped roughly onto her stomach as she landed, while the contents of the shelf shattered next to her on the cave floor, but she managed to grab the dagger.

Calypso hovered over her in distress, careful not to step on the broken glass. Annabeth struggled into a sitting position, using her left arm to prop her up. Her chest was stinging with pain, but she raised her dagger up between her and Calypso, pointing it at her accusingly. 

She then immediately realized how ridiculous she must have looked, half-laying there on the floor. Hesitantly, Annabeth lowered her arm, but maintained the stone in her expression as she leveled her gaze at Calypso. She tried her hardest to sound assertive, despite the rasp.

"I appreciate it, but I think it's time I left. The labyrinth brought me here, right? To Ogygia, the phantom island." Annabeth's arm wobbled, but she steadied herself and continued. "How long have I been here? And how do I leave? Tell me, or—"

Calypso knelt down and interrupted her, looking like she was trying to decide if she should help or back away. "Hero, please, be still. You are still too weak." She placed her hand over Annabeth's. Annabeth met Calypso's pleading look with a wary one of her own, and tightened her grip on the dagger. She was right, though; Annabeth's burst of strength was fading, and the arm she was using to prop herself up had gone numb.

Then Calypso looked down and scoffed, almost despite herself. "If I could answer for you that, believe me, I would."

"It would seem you know more about this than I do, anyways," she said, this time with a dry smile. "I'm not sure how much help I can be to you in that respect." Annabeth didn't return her attempt at lightheartedness, and Calypso sighed. She closed her eyes and tried again. "I'm not sure how long you've been gone. Here, three days have passed—but as I'm sure you know, time does not pass here as it does in the mortal world." She reached to brush back the damp hair that clung to Annabeth's forehead, and Annabeth blanched at the casual tenderness of the gesture. "But what I do know, is that continuing to try and fight your body's need for rest will only prevent you from being able to leave as soon as you would like to."

Now it was Annabeth's turn to laugh. _Well, try and stop me_ , is what she tried to say, but the words wouldn't quite come out. She had dropped back down to her elbow at some point, without realizing it, and her vision was beginning to become speckled with dots of pain again. What was wrong with her today? She tried to scramble to her feet, but Annabeth's brain refused to process any of her orders, and instead let her fall flat into Calypso's lap, like a ragdoll.

Calypso quickly supported Annabeth, and then slowly stroked her hair. Annabeth would be lying if she said it hadn't felt nice. Then she began to sing again, a quiet lullaby that eased away all of her tensions, so comforting that Annabeth was helpless but to sink her head further into Calypso's hands and let the sounds wash over her aching mind. Maybe... she would let herself heal up, just a little bit more, just so that she could stand on her own. Gods, was Annabeth tired. 

She resolved herself to that thought until she slowly drifted into sleep, with the sounds of Calypso's voice and the lulling waves occupying her conscience.

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading! i have the next chapter written already, i will post it soon assuming that this gets enough positive feedback! i promise annabeth stays conscious in the next one lmfao.


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